


Yet Another Goodbye

by Lion_owl



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode: s11e09 It Takes You Away, Missing Scene, Other, Sorry Not Sorry, honestly though i feel so sad for the solitract, in this fic i used she/her pronouns for all incarnations, mention of 8x12 death in heaven, mentions of third doctor era, nonbinary/genderfluid doctor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:15:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lion_owl/pseuds/Lion_owl
Summary: The Doctor says they need to leave; who could possibly tempt her to stay?





	Yet Another Goodbye

_“_ This whole thing is a con. I don't think even Grace knows it. I think this whole world is a trap, and she's part of it. Listen to me. It's her or the real world. You can't have both. Please, get inside. We're going.” She says. She wishes she didn’t have to, because Graham’s getting his heart broken all over again. But she does have to. She won’t let him die.

“Er, Doc,” Graham says. He is no longer looking at her, or at the facsimile of Grace, but over her shoulder. “There’s someone else over there, walking towards us. Dressed in a military uniform.”

Oh no, no. She’s seen the pattern here, she suspects she knows who it will be, and she doesn’t like it. Yaz turns to look, but the Doctor doesn’t dare. “Hey Yaz,” she says, and she can hear the note of worry in her voice. “Not someone you happen to have known, huh?”

“Never seen them before,” Yaz says. “They’re fit, though.” 

“Very handsome,” Graham agrees.

“This is just what I need,” the Doctor mutters. She doesn’t dare turn around. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Doctor? Is that you?” he says, and that voice is all too familiar, even so many years later.

“It isn’t him,” she reminds herself. “It isn’t him.” She swivels and begins walking towards the house, keeping her head down. She can’t look at him, because if she does, even she might be tempted to stay.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to your friend?” the Grace facsimile asks.

“I’ve said goodbye to him too many times,” she says. “I don’t want to do it again.”

“But you don’t have to,” he says, closer now. “We can be together again.”

“I’d love that,” she says. “But we can’t, because you aren’t you.” Against her own will, she lifts her head and comes face to face with the image of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart… with Alistair, and when he smiles warmly it takes everything not to let her knees buckle.

“You’re young again,” she notes. “You look exactly like you did in the seventies.”

“You look even younger than you did then.” He chuckles. “Not that I’m surprised. One might think you aged backward. Except for the face you had in that graveyard.” 

He meant the time the Master had turned all the dead into a cybermen, him included. Danny had ordered them all to self-destruct and she’d assumed Alistair had gone with them, however much she wanted to believe he was still alive out there, somewhere. It was cruel of the Solitract to bring that up.

“That’s enough! Yaz, Graham; come on.”

“Doctor, please. I miss you.” He says, reaching for her hand and clasping it firmly. “Stay.”

She misses Alistair, too. But he isn’t here. He isn’t here, he isn’t here, he isn’t here.

But the Solitract does a damn good impression, and it’s looking at her the way he often looked at her, especially in her days working at UNIT – that same mix of fondness and exasperation. And she hopes to whatever gods are out there that the Solitract doesn’t know how to pronounce Gallifreyan words, because if it says her name, her real name, in his voice; she’s done for.

“We’re going back to the house to find Erik, and we’re going home,” she says, trying to sound commanding and sure. “Don’t follow us.”

His other hand comes up to rest on her cheek, and she makes a decision: one that could very well be a bad decision, but she misses him terribly and she’ll probably never see the real Alistair again; she mirrors the facsimile’s posture and steps closer, close enough to let him kiss her.

He does.

She clings to him, lets herself enjoy the sensation for a few moments, for old times’ sake, lets herself pretend it’s really him, kissing her once more.

And then she musters all of her strength and steps back.

“Don’t follow us,” she commands, and turns and strides up the hill, Yaz close on her heel. Graham follows too, but he’s still clutching the Grace facsimile’s hand. When she reaches the patio door, she lets herself glance back into the garden in time to see the Alistair facsimile fade away.

She turns and goes inside.

“Erik!” she shouts. Time to get out of here.


End file.
